The pain in my shoulder worsens and someone lays me down steps away. There are only three people in the whole world that Winnie trusts enough to let them touch me. Three people that are alive, anyhow. Instead of trying to figure it out, right now, while I bleed, I grab my bag. Bandages, out. Pain killer, out. No pain meds until my shoulder’s dealt with.
Easier said than done.
There’s a hole in the front of my shoulder; I hope it’s because the bullet went straight through. I poke around inside and feel nothing but sharp, broken bone, and blood, sticky, tacky, oozing over my fingers. I pick out what I can and hope that that’s enough so nothing sharp causes me to bleed from the inside out. I pack as much gauze as I gauge we can spare on both sides of the wound and wrap bandages around my shoulder. No time to make a sling… the world was already swimming in front of me; now would be an appropriate time to take some of that medicine before I pass out from the pain.
I glance up, distractedly, at Mercury. Of course Winnie would trust Mercury. He stares at me and takes a step back. I look around, expecting to see Virgil; he wouldn’t be big enough to carry me in. But I don’t. I don't even see Kid. Winnie’s sitting protectively between me and the door. Mercury keeps staring at my shoulder and it feels like he's staring at the exact spot the bullet hit me.
“I don’t want to die.”
I pretend my voice doesn’t crack, even though it wants to, but it does, it quivers and – don’t cry. I really don’t want to die. Being with people does have me feeling content again, but it also offers me more life and death situations than I am accustom to. I do not like feeling like I’m going to die, and two times in two days is two too many.
Winnie nudges me with her snout and I nearly topple off the desk. Butterflies are not going to distract me this time, but I can’t help myself from wondering what she’ll do if I die. Maybe that’s something I should discuss with Virgil, Mercury, and Kid. If we get out of this mess, that is… I butt my head against Winnie’s while I decide how much of the pain medication to give to myself – better enjoy her while I can. The guy I saved in Boston Store seemed pretty out of it from one whole dose; he is bigger than I am, too. Half a shot, I decide safely; I can always give myself another one if I need it, but I can never take it back. A pleasant sensation flows over me, and I know the medicine is starting to work.
Mercury takes another step back. He glances behind his shoulder – two good shoulders, two good arms, and I bet he doesn’t realize how lucky he is… I know I didn’t – at a door. Slowly, he walks towards it, rifle out and ready. Some kind of haze envelops him, and I start to think I’ve used too much painkiller.
His footsteps squeak over the tile floor, and then fade. I close my eyes and listen.
My heart thumps – too loud. Winnie sits down and lays her head against my leg. The wind howls outside. A hiss.
Snake.
I'm still not over feeling like I’m going to die from this shoulder wound, and now I've got to deal with a snake, too. Great. Near-death situation number three. Automatically, my mind pages through all the poisonous snakes. Why not the non-poisonous ones? The pain medicine is starting to work and I don’t feel anything. But the hissing sounds weird... non-stop. Do hurt snakes hiss differently than un-hurt snakes? I push my medication-altered brain to think. What pops into my head isn’t what I was aiming for, but I’ll take it anyway.
Gas. That’s what I hear – gas. Gas rushing out of a too-small hole and–
I rip my eyes open. Focus. There are no pipes on the ceiling, on the walls, or on the floor. Near the door Mercury went in, there is a valve. Pumping gas into the next room, or this room? Maybe that’s why a haze surrounded him…
I make myself fall off the desk and crawl through the pain, dragging my backpack behind me, on knees and hand, to the valve. I turn it until the hissing stops, and keep turning it until I can’t turn it anymore. I slump back against the wall.
A shot: Mercury’s gun, but I’m too exhausted to get up and see what it is. I dig in my backpack for the pain medicine and give myself the other half of the shot. It’s not enough, so I grab another one as Mercury stumbles out of the other room.
I have never seen him look so scared and disorientated in the three days I’ve known him. Mercury doesn’t do scared. Scientifically, I assumed I’d be out of adrenalin. But that’s what I get for assuming, and I’m suddenly awake, balance swaying, but not in pain. If Mercury’s scared, it’s a life-or-death situation: number four (and, apparently, counting).
I peek around the door, and promptly have no idea what’s scared Mercury so. Through the mist - fog - gas, I see a three legged dog. It's the gas, I try to calm myself, that's making Mercury act so scared. Hallucinations? “Here, boy,” I said, “come here.” I make cooing, soothing sounds and a dog with three legs hobbles over. I open a can of Fancy Feast and offer it to the dog.
“What the fuck is going on?” Mercury asks, silver eyes dilated.
The pain in my shoulder worsens and someone lays me down steps away. There are only three people in the whole world that Winnie trusts enough to let them touch me. Three people that are alive, anyhow. Instead of trying to figure it out, right now, while I bleed, I grab my bag. Bandages, out. Pain killer, out. No pain meds until my shoulder’s dealt with.
Easier said than done.
There’s a hole in the front of my shoulder; I hope it’s because the bullet went straight through. I poke around inside and feel nothing but sharp, broken bone, and blood, sticky, tacky, oozing over my fingers. I pick out what I can and hope that that’s enough so nothing sharp causes me to bleed from the inside out. I pack as much gauze as I gauge we can spare on both sides of the wound and wrap bandages around my shoulder. No time to make a sling… the world was already swimming in front of me; now would be an appropriate time to take some of that medicine before I pass out from the pain.
I glance up, distractedly, at Mercury. Of course Winnie would trust Mercury. He stares at me and takes a step back. I look around, expecting to see Virgil; he wouldn’t be big enough to carry me in. But I don’t. I don't even see Kid. Winnie’s sitting protectively between me and the door. Mercury keeps staring at my shoulder and it feels like he's staring at the exact spot the bullet hit me.
“I don’t want to die.”
I pretend my voice doesn’t crack, even though it wants to, but it does, it quivers and – don’t cry. I really don’t want to die. Being with people does have me feeling content again, but it also offers me more life and death situations than I am accustom to. I do not like feeling like I’m going to die, and two times in two days is two too many.
Winnie nudges me with her snout and I nearly topple off the desk. Butterflies are not going to distract me this time, but I can’t help myself from wondering what she’ll do if I die. Maybe that’s something I should discuss with Virgil, Mercury, and Kid. If we get out of this mess, that is… I butt my head against Winnie’s while I decide how much of the pain medication to give to myself – better enjoy her while I can. The guy I saved in Boston Store seemed pretty out of it from one whole dose; he is bigger than I am, too. Half a shot, I decide safely; I can always give myself another one if I need it, but I can never take it back. A pleasant sensation flows over me, and I know the medicine is starting to work.
Mercury takes another step back. He glances behind his shoulder – two good shoulders, two good arms, and I bet he doesn’t realize how lucky he is… I know I didn’t – at a door. Slowly, he walks towards it, rifle out and ready. Some kind of haze envelops him, and I start to think I’ve used too much painkiller.
His footsteps squeak over the tile floor, and then fade. I close my eyes and listen.
My heart thumps – too loud. Winnie sits down and lays her head against my leg. The wind howls outside. A hiss.
Snake.
I'm still not over feeling like I’m going to die from this shoulder wound, and now I've got to deal with a snake, too. Great. Near-death situation number three. Automatically, my mind pages through all the poisonous snakes. Why not the non-poisonous ones? The pain medicine is starting to work and I don’t feel anything. But the hissing sounds weird... non-stop. Do hurt snakes hiss differently than un-hurt snakes? I push my medication-altered brain to think. What pops into my head isn’t what I was aiming for, but I’ll take it anyway.
Gas. That’s what I hear – gas. Gas rushing out of a too-small hole and–
I rip my eyes open. Focus. There are no pipes on the ceiling, on the walls, or on the floor. Near the door Mercury went in, there is a valve. Pumping gas into the next room, or this room? Maybe that’s why a haze surrounded him…
I make myself fall off the desk and crawl through the pain, dragging my backpack behind me, on knees and hand, to the valve. I turn it until the hissing stops, and keep turning it until I can’t turn it anymore. I slump back against the wall.
A shot: Mercury’s gun, but I’m too exhausted to get up and see what it is. I dig in my backpack for the pain medicine and give myself the other half of the shot. It’s not enough, so I grab another one as Mercury stumbles out of the other room.
I have never seen him look so scared and disorientated in the three days I’ve known him. Mercury doesn’t do scared. Scientifically, I assumed I’d be out of adrenalin. But that’s what I get for assuming, and I’m suddenly awake, balance swaying, but not in pain. If Mercury’s scared, it’s a life-or-death situation: number four (and, apparently, counting).
I peek around the door, and promptly have no idea what’s scared Mercury so. Through the mist - fog - gas, I see a three legged dog. It's the gas, I try to calm myself, that's making Mercury act so scared. Hallucinations?
“Here, boy,” I said, “come here.” I make cooing, soothing sounds and a dog with three legs hobbles over. I open a can of Fancy Feast and offer it to the dog.
“What the fuck is going on?” Mercury asks, silver eyes dilated.
What the fuck is going on, indeed…